Far-Fetched 3
by St. Tabris
Summary: The one nice thing about going mad on the Rook Islands: you can do it laughing. Co-written with SpEd2DeAd.
1. Out of His Element

"Did I ever tell you the definition of insanity?"

_Oh, boy_, thought Jason Brody as he sat encaged, _here he goes again_. The walking emotional pendulum with a penchant for torture, murder and all-around gratuitous brutality was going off on _that _particular tangent for the third time yet. The guy just couldn't seem to shut up about it. Maybe _this _time, he'd actually think of an answer.

"Well, for starters…I think trusting someone you just met, who tells you to visit an uncharted island where there are supposedly no people…_that _is insanity."

Jason would have rolled his eyes had he not been so afraid. Señor Psycho had a point there.

His captor continued, gesticulating with Jason's phone in hand, "I mean, you boys sure _think _you're crazy, huh? Jumping out of airplanes, flying like birds, throwing coconuts around, admiring cassowaries? Things you could have done someplace else, where the people are friendlier. But no, you two pricks, you wanted the deluxe package. The _Vaas Montenegro Human-Trafficking Exclusive!_" The last sentence was delivered in a tone that bordered on shrill in its excitement. At least now Jason knew the asshole's name for future reference. "But I tell you what, _hermano_." Vaas flashed him a grin that was both comical and pants-shittingly terrifying. "Since you went to all that trouble to visit my island, I'll give you the choice of what kind of slavery you're gonna be sold into if no one pays up. There's work in the drug fields in Colombia, the sex trade in Southeast Asia, and my personal favorite, involuntary suicide bombing in Afghanistan. As you can imagine, they're having a real shortage. Plus, you only have to do it once, unless the bombmaker fucks up and you lose a limb or something." At this, the mohawk-sporting maniac went into a fit of hyenalike laughter, which shortly died off to be replaced by hoarse, phlegmy coughing. Upon recovering, he held up a pair of passports. "Anyway…let's see who we got here. Tweedledee, Tweedledum. Grant and Jason, from California. Land of the Red Hot Chili Peppers. I fucking love that band. I hope your mama and papa love you really, really much, 'cause you two white boys look really expensive. And that's good, because I like expensive things."

Jason's brother Grant muttered something through the tape gagging him. Vaas glared at him. "I'm sorry," he spoke, "what did you say? What did you say?" When Grant answered—it sounded like "you fucking asshat"—Vaas shot from calm and collected to furious in an instant. "DO YOU WANT ME TO SLICE YOU OPEN AND FEED YOU TO THE SHARKS LIKE I DID YOUR FRIEND?!" he bellowed. By "your friend," he meant Vincent Salas. Vince really wasn't—hadn't been—their friend. They'd let him tag along on the trip out of pity—and the fact that he was a whiny little bitch. "_SHUT THE FUCK UP_…okay? I'm the one with the fucking dick. Look at me. Look me in the fucking eye." When Grant failed to obey, Vaas yelled at him, "HEY! YOU FUCK! Look me in the dick—the fucking eye of my—_FUCK!_ You know what I mean! You're my fucking don't-ask-don't-tell-Army-bunk bitch. I rule this fucking kingdom. Zip it, or you die." Vaas turned back to Jason, acting all chummy again. "What is it, Jason? Jason, what is it? Why aren't you laughing now like you did back there? What, is this not fun anymore? Have I failed to entertain you? You, the guy who was all 'I'M THE KING OF THE WOOOOORLD!' and shit? Mr. White-Privileged-Owns-The-World? You see, thing is, up there, you thought you had a chance. Way up in the fucking skies, you thought you had your finger on the pussy trigger. But, _hermano_, down here…down here?" He scooped up a handful of dirt, then let it spill through his fingers. "You hit the ground." Vaas chuckled evilly. "It's okay. I'm gonna chill. You, _moi_, and your tough-guy brother, we're gonna have a lot of fun together while we wait for the money." He paused, then added, "But not the sort of fun you might be thinking. That's not my thing."

"VAAS!" boomed a new voice. Jason saw a man in a fancy jacket in the shadows behind Vaas. He spoke with a South African accent. "Quit scaring the hostages. I need you to take care of the rejects."

Vaas gave the newcomer a childishly disappointed look. "And what if I don't, Ho—?"

"FIRST OF ALL, DON'T SAY MY NAME IN FRONT OF THE HOSTAGES!" the other man interjected in a fury. "SECOND…_HOOD. ORNAMENT._"

Vaas fell dead silent, understanding the implication. He turned back to Jason and Grant with a sour look on his face. "You did not just see or hear any of that. You tell a soul, I will thread a fucking needle through your dicks." His expression became cheery again as he stood up. "I hope you two fucks are more entertaining than your friend. Ta-tah! Buh-bye!" As Vaas passed the lone guard watching the brothers, he feinted a lunge toward him, then chuckled when the guy flinched. "Gets you every fucking time, man."

The guard grumbled under his breath. "I'm getting real tired of your shit, Vaas."

Vaas jerked to a stop and slowly turned his head around. "What was that?"

"I said, it burns like a mother when I piss," fibbed the pirate. "Should've used a rubber."

Vaas glanced at the guard, suspicious, then waved a hand dismissively. "You should get that checked out."

The guard faced away, and Grant slowly untied the rope that bound his hands, peeled off his gag, then did the same to Jason. "You'd think these guys would know how to make a proper knot," he remarked. "I can tie my shoelaces better than that."

"We have to find the others," said Jason.

"One thing at a time, J," Grant replied. "This island's probably crawling with pirates. We gotta get to a radio tower. Some of my Army buddies in the Philippines could help us. If we go after the others by ourselves, they'll probably be killed."

"Okay," Jason said, eyes darting about in fear that Vaas would return. "But how're we gonna escape?"

"Working on it," Grant said as he went back to his end of the cage. Putting his hands back up and motioning for Jason to do the same, he said, "Call the guard."

Jason broke out in a cold sweat. "_What?!_" he cried a little too loudly.

"Hey!" the guard yelled at them. "You guys shut the fuck up!" He stomped over and was about to smash the butt of his rifle into Grant's head when the latter twisted around, grabbed him and slammed his face into the bamboo bars once, twice, three times. The guard slumped over, dead.

Jason spouted the obvious: "Holy fuck, he's dead."

"Yeah, _that_ is how you deal with dumb muscle. They teach you in the Army." Grant looked Jason over for a moment. "Sorry, J. I was counting on you to react like that. He would've known something was wrong if you'd actually called him over." He kicked the door open and shoved the guard's body aside, taking the man's knife. Jason was perplexed, but Grant explained, "Can't bring the rifle. Easier to be stealthy with a knife, and we'd be outgunned anyway."

After traversing a short distance, the brothers found their belongings on a table next to a map and cell phone, which Jason took at Grant's advice. They didn't get much farther before they encountered a pirate standing watch by a hut. From their hiding place behind a well and a stack of crates, Grant was thinking of a way to get by the guard when Jason picked up a rock and threw it to the right. The guard, much to their surprise, went to investigate. _Correction: _very_ d__umb muscle_, Grant observed as he and Jason clambered over the windowsill into the hut. _I can't believe that worked_.

"Shit. Grant?" Jason whimpered. There was another pirate they hadn't seen. Luckily for them, Grant was quick to react. The man was just getting up when the older Brody's knife came flying and embedded itself in his trachea. As Grant retrieved the knife, Jason had to struggle to keep from pissing himself, he was so scared. "I can't do this, Grant! _I can't!_" He began to hyperventilate.

Grant leaned in close. "J, J, J, J! Look at me!" he urged. Jason did so, lower lip trembling. Grant knew he urgently had to keep his little brother from losing his shit. "I can't find Liza and Riley and the others without you," he emphasized. "So pull it together, okay?"

A single tear rolled down Jason's face. "...'Kay." It didn't encourage him as much as either of them would like, but it would have to do. Even so, Jason came close to freaking out a moment later as he spotted none other than Vaas through a fence.

Their tormentor was executing the four "rejects"—hostages for whom the ransom money hadn't been paid, either deliberately or because their families lacked the necessary amount—while a few guards looked on. Vaas strolled down the row, shooting each prisoner once in the head, then paused at the third. "Four fucking calls, nobody wants to pay for you," he told the man. "You're worthless."

Jason turned away and followed his brother. _No need to see this_. Two more gunshots sounded as they found a crop of cannabis. Grant motioned for Jason to follow him. "Quick, hide in the plants."

"Yeah, the plants…'cause I'm shaking like a leaf," Jason mumbled. Joke or not, the statement didn't sound funny at all.

* * *

As they finally passed through a hole in a fence into the jungle, Jason laid the map out on the ground. "Does it say where our friends are?"

Grant looked around them anxiously. "Jason, we don't have time for this!" he whispered, exasperated. "We need to be like a hundred miles away from here before we even stop! And pipe down. Somebody could hear—"

BLAM! Grant flopped over, blood gushing from his neck. Jason instinctively put his hands over the wound. Grant burbled, "Thuh…wuhn…wrrk..!"

"BOOM!" screamed Vaas from behind them. "HEADSHOT, MOTHERFUCKER! Well, okay, _neck_shot, but close enough."

As Grant's vision dimmed, he coughed out his parting words to his idiot brother: "Yuh…fuhing…re-urd…" He promptly died, middle finger raised in Jason's direction.

Vaas was raving, "What, you want to run? Huh? You want to run, you want to disrespect me? You want to fuck with me? I mean, you come here, with your—with your pretty-boy face, right, and your pretty-boy phone, your dimwit brother, and you want to fuck with me. _You want to fuck with me._ I like that—no, I_ respect _that. I'm gonna give you thirty seconds, and if the jungle doesn't eat you up alive, _I will_." A few tense seconds went by before Vaas, peeved by Jason's lack of response, yelled, "What, you want me to take you out to fucking dinner first?! I said, _GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE, YOU CHICKEN FUCK!_" He made clucking sounds. "RUN, FORREST! RUN!"

And Jason ran off into the jungle like he had never run before in his mighty-whitey life.

"Sic balls! Bring me his nutsack!" Vaas shouted to a group of guard dogs, and the animals took off like furry, homicidal rockets.

Jason tripped over a rock and fell hundreds of meters down an incline, hitting each and every rock in his path on the way down. He was dimly aware of Vaas screaming something about the "ugly hill" as he got to his feet and ran on. "Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, _fuck!_" There came the roar of a bear amid the gunfire and barking. Jason panted, "There are _bears _in the jungle?! This can't possibly get any worse!" No sooner had he uttered that when a helicopter appeared ahead and began firing its minigun at him. The fucking pirates had air support! "Oh, _shiiiiiit!_" Jason screamed as the bear behind him exploded into chunks.

In the chopper, Vaas was strangling the gunner. "NOT THE FUCKING BEAR!"

Jason sprinted across a bridge, thanking God he had a chance to get out of this mess.

"DON'T LET HIM CROSS THE FUCKING BRIDGE!" Vaas screeched, hopping up and down in frustration. "USE THE BEAR!"

Jason came to a dead stop in stunned disbelief as the remains of the bear were dropped from the helicopter, shattering the bridge. He held on to his half, grunting as it smashed into the side of the cliff. He didn't have time to scream before the corpse of the bear knocked him loose and he fell toward the river—or so he assumed at first, right before he landed on a rock. Jason had just enough air left in his lungs to croak, "Fuck this gay Earth," before the bear crashed on top of him. As he rolled into the water, he thought, _I should've gone to Australia. Fucking Australia. Nobody crazy comes from there. _And then all went to black.


	2. Jungle Boogie

"The jungle speaks through the warrior. The Path leads to the heart of the jungle. Follow the Path and you will find the answer."

_Fuck me_, thought Jason as he woke from his stupor. _Will this guy _ever_ shut up? And why the fuck is he being so cryptic all of a sudden?_ _The hills are alive with the sound of bullshit!_

The voice came again, but this time, Jason realized it didn't sound like Vaas'. "No, my friend," it said to him, "it is anything but." Nope, it was definitely not the pirate leader. Vaas did not have an African accent. Jason's vision cleared enough for him to make things out. He was in a hut, with only a candle for illumination, a bespectacled, goateed black man at his bedside. The man wore a field jacket bearing the United States Marine Corps seal on the right sleeve with Army-style sergeant's chevrons beneath, and a huge medallion around his neck. He was doing something with Jason's left arm, which still had no feeling in it for some reason. The guy continued, "It is brave to swim in a storm, but to sunbathe on a beach with pirates? Insanity."

The word reminded Jason of Vaas. He jerked away, and spotting a knife on a shelf to his right, reached for the weapon, only to see the blade of a machete at his throat. "You've got to be fucking _kidding _me!"

His captor—rescuer?—sighed and shook his head. "You have the right to take my life, however ungrateful of you that would be, but know I will also take yours." Rather than follow through, the guy flipped the machete in his hand with a chuckle and introduced himself: "I'm Dennis Rogers."

"J-J-Jason B-Brody," responded the relieved fish out of water before he noticed a mark on his numb arm. _A tattoo?_

Dennis caught his curious expression. "_Bangau, labah-labah_. The heron, the shark and the spider. I know who you are, Jason. The tatau will allow for you to reveal your true self."

Jason stood up and made for the door. "Look," he explained to Dennis, "my older brother's been killed, and my younger brother and four friends have been kidnapped. I don't know why I've woken up with a tattoo. God, this is like my frat days all over again. I need to get to the nearest American embassy."

Dennis patted Jason on the shoulder. "I'm afraid the only airfields and aircraft are operated by Vaas' pirates."

"What about the radio towers?" Jason practically pleaded, feeling another bout of hyperventilation on the way.

Dennis shot down that idea, too. "Vaas uses the towers to map the island and to locate his men. Scramblers block access."

Jason fell back on the bed. "Just fucking great," he moaned. "I don't suppose you can help me get my friends back?"

"No," Dennis said. "Not really. Most people who fight the pirates tend to end up dead, or worse. You can only help yourself. I am going to free you." Beckoning to Jason, Dennis stepped through the door into the light of the outdoors.

* * *

The village wasn't as primitive as he thought it would be, Jason had to admit. But damn, this place was still a shithole by his standards. Jason asked how he'd gotten here, and was told Dennis had found him washed up on the beach. "Welcome to Amanaki!" his rescuer stated. "It is something, isn't it?"

"Not as depressing," Jason said without thinking, "as Reno, that's for sure."

Dennis gave him a look that suggested he wasn't sure if he should be offended or not, shrugged it off, and moved on to indicate a group of women close by. "Beautiful, aren't they?" he asked Jason. He meant well by the question.

Jason scratched the back of his head. "Um, I have a girlfriend."

Dennis looked confused. "Just one? I feel sorry for you. But I understand. I could have anyone I choose, but my will is set on one woman."

"That's very interesting," deadpanned Jason. "Did I mention my brother was killed a few hours ago? And for some reason, I'm taking it better than I should?"

An awkward silence set in for several seconds. Finally, Dennis handed Jason six $10 bills, stating, "Cash for weapons. You know, I, too, was once an outsider like you. Then the Rakyat saved me and taught me their ways." When Jason profanely inquired as to who the Rakyat were, Dennis let it slide. "They are the natives of the island. I was an outsider—"

"Yeah, you told me that."

"Oh," said Dennis, genuinely surprised. "Sorry. Anyway, the true warriors live in the heart of the jungle. I will teach you how to be a warrior."

This made Jason laugh. "I see how this is gonna go," he chuckled. "Uncultured white boy with no experience in combat and survival goes from zero to _The Last Samurai _in sixty seconds. I become superior to the people who have lived and trained on these islands for centuries."

Dennis began to visibly sweat. Chuckling uncomfortably, he replied, "I don't know where you got that idea. You want to save your friends, right? I'm just going to teach you some basic survival skills."

"Okay," Jason snarked. "Like what?"

Dennis held up a finger. "Once you've bought weapons, I need you to gather these things," he instructed, handing a list to Jason.

_1 red leaf_

_2 green leaves_

_1 blue leaf_

_2 boar skins_

Jason was momentarily dumbfounded. "Wait a minute. One: how will these things help me find my friends? Two: there must be _thousands _of red, green and blue plants on this island. How will I know which ones?"

"The jungle speaks through the warrior. The Path leads to the heart of the jungle. Follow the Path and you will find the answer."

"Seriously, is there, like, a string attached to you or something?" Jason headed for the gun shop. There were only M1911 pistols available—the Kimber Warrior. The chunky woman behind the counter pointed out how fixing the radio towers would let her stock better items from other villages. Well, if it was good enough for Uncle Sam all these decades, it was good enough for him. Still, the insanely-low price brought him pause. "How do I know if I fire this thing, it won't kill _me_ instead?" he dared ask.

The proprietor arched an eyebrow. "You're the one buying a premium gun, plus ammo, for sixty bucks. You tell me."

Jason winced at the remark as he handed her the money. Now he had a pistol. Ho-ho-ho for him.

* * *

"'The power comes from the jungle,' he says. 'Learn the terrain,' he says," Jason grumbled to himself as he ascended the hill to the closest radio tower. "He's a jarhead, for crying out loud. What's keeping _him_ from taking care of the scrambl—AAAH!" A high, effeminate scream was his reaction to the sudden appearance and attack of a snake. The reptile sank its fangs into his arm. Flailing and kicking, Jason tore the snake off him, threw it to the ground and stabbed the fuck out of it. "Jesus! Is _every damn thing _on the island trying to kill me…besides the Rakyat?!" In fact, now that he had a better view of it, even the radio tower had it in for him, it was in horrible shape. Jason could hear the metal creaking in the wind as he climbed the stairs, followed by a ladder.

The power box was at the top, on the south side. A padlock was secured to one end. Jason banged on the lock with the butt of his machete until it fell off, then opened the box, found and removed the scrambler and flipped the power lever. The indicator light above changed from red to green. As Jason looked around, he saw a wooden box in the corner to the left. Upon opening it, he found a gemstone, a box of .45 cartridges, and much to his surprise, a conflict diamond. He pocketed the items and went back to the ladder. One look down had him convinced not to go back that way. _Nuh-uh. Not for a lifetime supply of Twinkies. _As luck would have it, there was a zipline on the other side.

When he made it down, Dennis was waiting for him. After conferring briefly, Dennis left in a technical while Jason took a Scavenger SUV. The radio, playing a song called "Hawaiian Cocktail," soothed Jason's nerves. "If only I had some pineapple, chocolate-covered macadamias and a Blue Hawaiian right now," he sighed, lost in the hypnotic sounds of steel guitar, xylophone and ukulele. His life's soundtrack was most likely going to include lots of gunfire and explosions in the near future. It would be so much better with _Kid A_-era Radiohead, Macklemore, Stone Temple Pilots, Franz Ferdinand, and stuff like that. He had great taste in music, unlike all those hipsters and their Nirvana circa _In Utero_, Arcade Fire, Dr. Dog, Fuck Buttons and Vampire Weekend. Posers…

Suddenly, Jason was jolted from his reverie by the presence of animals right in his path. He slammed on the brakes and twisted the wheel, but the Scavenger tilted, giving him a moment to curse the vehicle's high center of gravity before it rolled over and crushed the unfortunate creatures.

Coughing, Jason climbed from the Scavenger. Several feet behind lay the corpses of a pair of boars and a goat. He squatted by them, hesitating. Jason's stomach lurched, but he did his best to put the nausea aside as he skinned the animals. Once he had dragged the skins back, he couldn't take it anymore; he turned away and vomited.

"Now for the plants," Jason reminded himself as he recovered. "But which ones?" Since he had no idea what the leaves looked like besides their colors, he decided to check the ruined shacks close by for goodies. A couple boxes netted him thirty dollars and a photo of a naked midget laughing and pointing his wang at the camera. Jason was repelled, but nonetheless pocketed the picture. He explored the area until he had ascertained which plants of each color were the most common, and then collected the number he had been told.

* * *

Back in Amanaki, Dennis woke from his nap—he'd stayed up most of the night looking after Jason—with an unearthly shriek. He grabbed his machete from under the pillow and looked this way and that for any threats. It took him a moment to figure out that he was, in fact, safe and sound, not in the company of the pirates. Damn that Vaas, offering him hibiscus tea and then throwing it in his face! He was in the process of sagging in relief when there was knocking on the door, to which he reacted by jumping and striking his head on the ceiling.

"Owww…" Upon opening the door, Dennis found nothing but a handbook on the ground bearing a note: _Give to Jason Brody_. Paging through it, he was shocked to find not only the Brody brothers and company referenced, but Vaas, the pirates and even he himself. There was also information on the local flora and fauna, as well as weapons and vehicles. He searched the immediate area for the person responsible, and when that turned up nothing, asked all around the village. No one had seen anything, so Dennis returned to the hut, utterly confused and wondering just what in the name of General Butt Naked was going on. Was he, after living on the island for so long, finally going mad?

A sudden attack of paranoia seized him and he locked the door. Change of plans: Dennis would wait for Jason here. As his phone began to ring, the skittish Liberian-American retrieved a bottle of beer. Liquid courage was needed.

* * *

"Dennis, I've got the plants and skins," Jason spoke into the cell phone he had stolen during his escape as he stood by the empty technical just out of town. "Where are you?"

"_I can't go outside_" was the answer. "_Come back to my hut and I will explain._" Dennis sounded a little drunk.

When Jason got there, Dennis pulled him in so fast, he hit his head on the edge of the door. After an apology, the subject of the handbook was brought up. Jason soon became just as bewildered as he skimmed it through. While certainly helpful—for starters, now he knew exactly which damn plants to use—it also made him wary. "How did you get this, again?" he asked.

Dennis lurched about, taking swigs of beer. "Someone left it here. Without leaving _any _trace. Like a ghost." He belched and shrugged. "It doesn't make sense."

Jason was getting the feeling that hardly anything on the islands made sense. What _did_ was that Dennis was not the only person with an interest in assisting the hapless young man, however mysterious they were. "First things first," Jason said, presenting the plant samples and boar skins. With Dennis' help in spite of his intoxicated state, Jason fashioned a couple syringes and a rucksack to hold loot. The goat skin also proved useful in making a gun holster, allowing him to carry an additional firearm. After this came a quick lesson in machete fighting, including takedowns, and the use of hand grenades. To Jason's surprise, more markings were spontaneously added to his tattoo. Dennis was unperturbed. Apparently, this was a common experience among Rakyat warriors.

Dennis opened his mouth to say something possibly containing the words "jungle," "warrior," "path," or "tatau" when Jason's phone rang. They exchanged a curious look, and Jason answered. He heard the voice of a pirate on the other end. "_Hey, Felipe. We're driving to the outpost near Amanaki. We have one of the Americans. Come have some fun!_"

Jason shot to his feet in alarm. "What the hell?" he blurted out despite himself, not seeing Dennis palm his own face in reaction to the young man's stupidity.

"_Noooo!_" screamed a feminine voice on the other end. Could it be—?

"_Liza!_" Jason shouted in horrified recognition. The pirates were going to rape his girlfriend!

The pirate, realizing that the individual he was talking to was _not _Felipe, exclaimed, "_Oh shit!_" and hung up.

* * *

With Dennis guiding him, Jason gunned the technical's engine and sped off. "What's this outpost they're taking Liza to?" he asked.

Dennis replied, "The outposts are strongholds found throughout Rook Island. Vaas' pirates hold them to control the surrounding area."

"So I guess we're in for a fight, right?"

"Yes. A worthwhile one. Rescuing your friend will kill two pigs with one stone. We are at war with the pirates. Taking over their outposts is key to reclaiming the island."

An SUV joined up with them as they passed a small farm. Dennis pointed out the Rakyat warriors in it and explained that Jason's tattoo would help them trust him. Jason was downright flabbergasted. It was a _tattoo_, for fuck's sake! "What, this thing? Look, I appreciate your help, but I just want to save Liza and find my friends and brother."

"This is the only way to get them back alive," Dennis insisted. "You escaped the slave camp. You survived. It is time to fight."

The two vehicles stopped where the road met a path leading to the outpost, which lay within walking distance to the east. Jason moved on while Dennis and the warriors secured the perimeter. They would follow once either the outpost was cleared or there was shooting. Pistol at the ready, Jason crept into the foliage, circling around to the north side. "Liza, I'm coming," he whispered.

Leaning around a gap in the fencing, he could see a corrugated-metal structure with a red door further eastward. That had to be the main building, and most likely where Liza was being held. He spotted what looked like a cluster of makeshift animal pens to the left of the building. If nothing else, it could provide a better place to hide _and _count the number of pirates present. Jason crossed the path leading into the outpost from the north, snuck into an empty pen and observed the outpost. _One, two, three, four, five…_

Then a snuffling sound came from the other side of the pen wall he'd just climbed over. _Fuck! _A guard dog was sniffing around, and from the looks of things, it could smell him. Jason tiptoed out of the pen and went around the left side. The dog was still there, but it had its back to him. If he was careful, he could kill it without raising an alarm. He was holding up the machete for the strike when he suddenly broke wind, and froze. Of all the times to fart! The dog sniffed the air, turned around, saw Jason and began to growl.

"Nice doggie," Jason mumbled, unable to will his arm to move. He'd never liked pit bulls.

The dog exploded into a fit of barking and charged. Jason backpedaled, but the dog crashed into him, knocking him over. Only the quick insertion into the canine's jaws of the blade of his machete saved his balls. While the dog fumbled with the object in its mouth, Jason aimed his Warrior and fired. The 220-grain +P bullet blew a hole nearly an inch in diameter in the dog's side. Jason could hear the pirates shouting through the ringing in his ears, and he moved accordingly. The first scumbag to show up in his sights took a round to the gut, stumbled, received another in the neck and collapsed in a gurgling mess. A second got a few shots off, all of which missed, then had the misfortune to get stabbed through the heart. The third pirate must've been on drugs, because he kept coming after being hit in both legs and one arm. Something punched into Jason's ankle, but he paid it no mind; he literally had tunnel vision. The last round in the magazine turned the pirate's brains to chunks. Panicking as he tried to reload, Jason could only watch as the last two goons found him—and then spasmed and fell in a hail of 7.62mm bullets from the Rakyat.

Banging on the door to the outpost HQ, Jason yelled, "Everything's going to be okay, Liza! They're all gone! You're safe now!" Forcing the door open, he sprang inside and swept his gun around. No one was here. A laptop computer, radio set, bottles and other assorted crap were on a table nearby. _She's not here!_

"_The outpost near Amanaki is under attack!_" a pirate cried over the radio. "_Where is the American prisoner?_"

"_She escaped__,_" another man answered. Jason's pounding heart swelled; Liza was all right!

"_What?!_"

"_She escaped on the west side of the fucking island. I'll tell you about it when we get there._"

Jason turned to Dennis and the Rakyat warriors standing in the doorway. "She got away!" he cried in relief, but they didn't answer. Dennis was looking at Jason's feet. Remembering the pain he'd felt earlier, he lifted his left leg up to find a ragged, bloody hole in his ankle. Jason returned his gaze to the others. "I'm...I'm shot." Upon making this casual pronouncement, he did what any normal person would do in such a situation.

He fainted.


	3. Stoner Rock

As a leader, Vaas felt justified in expecting his subordinates to possess something approximate to common fucking sense. He wasn't paying them to stand around and play with their peanut-sized dicks—and sure as hell not to shoot the breeze with prisoners—when they tired of raping women or playing cards or doing arts and crafts with human body parts. Discipline had to be enforced. That the guard assigned to keep watch over the Brodys was already dead was of no practical significance to Vaas; the man had failed, and he had to pay the price. Even if that price was Vaas playing soccer by himself with the guard's shrunken head.

It was the closest thing he had to a normal pastime.

When his phone rang, Vaas took a breather to answer. "Yeah, what?!" he snapped into the mouthpiece.

"You lost prisoners. Vaas Montenegro, the greatest pirate in history, lost prisoners," Hoyt Volker mocked with a chuckle from his compound on the southern island. "Really, I expected better of you."

Vaas barely held back from telling his boss to go fuck himself. "Hey, Hoyt, it's not my fucking fault these assholes can't make the effort to keep watch all the time. I don't have the same hiring standards as you. I mean, it's, fuck, Murphy's Law or some shit like that. It was bound to happen sooner or later."

"As long as you kill him, you shouldn't have problems in the foreseeable future," said Hoyt nonchalantly.

Vaas was offended by the suggestion it was only _his _concern. "'_We _shouldn't have problems,' Hoyt."

"No, it is _your _problem, and I intend to keep it that way. I repeat," said Hoyt, "hunt down Jason Brody and kill him."

Vaas snorted in disdain. _Arrogant motherfucker._ "I don't need to kill the stupid white boy. Guys like him don't last for long in the jungle. His older brother's dead and we still have the others. This changes nothing."

Just then, a pirate commander interrupted the conversation and informed Vaas that not only had another of Jason's companions gotten away from the convoy, but the outpost near Amanaki had been captured by the Rakyat. Enraged, Vaas kicked the shrunken head at the pirate, who was struck in the face. "How the fuck did you lose a prisoner _and_ an outpost?! _How the fuck?!_" Once he had calmed down, he returned the phone receiver to his ear.

"It sounds," Hoyt stated, thusly summing up the situation, "like this changes more than you think."

* * *

His ankle still hurt—a_ lot_—but Jason was feeling better now that Dennis had cleaned and dressed the wound, a task made surprisingly easy since the bullet had struck at a shallow angle and punched through tissue without damaging bone. Still, both thought it best for him to recover before pursuing his friends. Dennis mentioned that the Rakyat were offering bounties for hunting animals and killing high-level pirates, and suggested Jason try the former for now. "Also," Dennis added, "we found one of your friends at the colonist's house—Dr. Earnhardt, to the west. Do not worry, it is safe there. He will be waiting for you."

Jason surged with hope and relief. It must be Liza! To be sure, he asked if the doctor had said exactly which friend it was. Dennis said he hadn't, but in any case, the Rakyat would continue looking for the rest. "Keep your head up, Jason," he reassured. "The tribe is very impressed with you."

Jason had figured as much from the way the warriors had been kissing his ass when he'd regained consciousness. Rather than snark, he went over the hunting job on the nearby bulletin board. A pack of rabid dogs was roaming between the outpost and Amanaki, and needed to be put down. Jason noted the location and took a Scavenger. There was a pump-action shotgun featuring a Picatinny rail on top of the receiver—according to the handbook, it was a variant of a Russian design—and some shells left for him.

* * *

Thirty minutes later, Jason was hobbling up a dilapidated wooden stairway toward the doctor's house. The dogs had been put down at the cost of a few bites, including one to his left foot, and now that entire limb hurt like a bitch. Jason couldn't remember the last time he'd received a rabies vaccination, so he figured he'd ask Dr. Earnhardt for one, if possible. As if the powers-that-be hadn't kicked him in the nuts Vaas wanted removed enough, the Scavenger had inexplicably broken down the second he'd crossed onto this minor island.

The house—quite fancy in design, bringing to mind a mansion or plantation house—lay directly ahead, flanked by a gazebo to the left and a greenhouse to the right. Jason knocked on the door. No one answered. He moved clockwise from window to window, and when that proved fruitless, checked the greenhouse. That, too, was empty. Jason noticed a trio of bowls on a table, each containing a colored substance. "These sure aren't your garden-variety crops," he quipped as he took a closer look. A horrible pun it was, but it helped to ward off the whispers of panic he felt.

Suddenly, he detected someone behind him and spun around to see a haggard, hollow-eyed old man. The man asked in a British accent, "See anything you fancy?" Before the startled Jason could think of an answer, the guy added, "I like the red ones myself. The purples will give you a lift on a gray day. Everything is excellent, really. Oh, not the yellows, don't take them. They're liable to kill you. The mix is not quite right yet. Dr. Earnhardt here, or in and out, as the case may be."

Jason, relieved, introduced himself and they shook hands. "Dennis said you'd be able to help me," he told the doctor. "You, uh, found one of my friends, right?"

Dr. Earnhardt chuckled and looked around at nothing in particular. "Yes, I'm distilling a batch later today." It took an expressionless stare from Jason to turn on the proverbial lightbulb. "Oh!" the doctor exclaimed. "You mean, _the girl_, Daisy! Please excuse me, I assumed you to be speaking in code. She's in the house, upstairs."

The statement cheered and depressed Jason at the same time. On one hand, he was relieved Daisy was okay; on the other, the thought of breaking the news of Grant's death to her made his injured leg throb harder. They were all up to their necks in shit, and he knew hiding the truth to spare Daisy grief wouldn't help in the long run. Okay, he'd probably leave out the part about him dillydallying to look at the map, but still... "How is she?" Jason asked Dr. Earnhardt as they entered the room where an unconscious Daisy lay.

"Feverish," the doctor said matter-of-factly. "When I found her, she had cut her arm going through a field of _Antiarias toxicaria_—upas trees. Their latex is highly poisonous, but I have been administering an antidote every half hour…" Dr. Earnhardt trailed off as he opened a pink lunchbox containing the antidote. "I am afraid another dosage may be required." Jason looked from the bedside and saw it was empty. "'_May_ be?'" he retorted. When Dr. Earnhardt pointed out he had only just checked the box, Jason groaned and palmed his face. "Where should I go for more?"

The doctor pointed westward. "Set us up with a couple of cave mushrooms and we shall be right as rain. Peruse the cliffs." He waved away Jason's thanks, saying, "Think nothing of it. The girl must live…for you and me both."

Jason was in too much of a hurry to opine how creepy that last sentence sounded, though not to ask Dr. Earnhardt for a rabies shot. To his surprise, the old Brit explained that a healing syringe would stop the infection. The plant life on the Rook Islands had incredible chemical effects. "Good to know," Jason said to himself as he walked off, smiling in spite of the situation.

* * *

"Oh no. Don't tell me it's _underwater_."

Jason had found the cave beneath a series of ledges a little too precarious for his liking, so he'd walked the perimeter of the island until he found an alternate way in at the north. Now he stood atop the cliffs, peering into the oceanic depths below. It made him wish the Brody party had brought scuba gear, or at least rebreathers. Well, if the doc could do it, _he _could, right? "Oh shit," Jason whispered as he hesitated on the edge. "Oh shit." He backed up to get a running start, counted to three, sprinted and jumped. "OH SHIIIIIT!"

Jason wasted several seconds underwater brooding over what a fucked-up turn his life had taken before the need for oxygen forced him to the surface. Another unhappy idea came to mind, which he voiced once he'd reoriented himself: "I'm probably swimming in shark-infested waters." Half-expecting to have a chunk bitten out of his posterior at any moment, he swam for the cave entrance. What he _did_ soon encounter was a swarm of bats. "Fucking dark, dank, bat-infested cave…"

Some climbing and swimming later, Jason finally found some mushrooms—by stepping on them. He gasped and therefore inhaled the ethers. His vision blurred and changed color, and he stumbled in a psychedelic fog through the cave. Boulders rolled aside to let him through, parrots froze in midair and palm shrubs grew from bare rock while voices whispered non-sequiturs to him like a Clams Casino song. _Oh, look, more mushrooms_—

The cave floor crumbled out from under him.

* * *

Jason came to, and would you look at that, there were mushrooms right in his face. He picked them and put them in the sample jar Dr. Earnhardt had provided. The cave exit waited a ways to his right. The sky was gray and starry when he got out. "Whoa…how long was I down there?" exclaimed Jason as he made for the cliffs. While climbing down them might have been difficult, going up was a cakewalk. "I should've been a mountain goat," he remarked absently to himself. "_Baaaa_."

Dr. Earnhardt was waiting in the greenhouse when Jason returned, whereupon he took the mushrooms and encouraged Jason to check on Daisy. To his pleasant surprise, Daisy was awake and quite happy to see him as well. "You got away!" she said, accepting his one-armed hug.

"Yeah," Jason replied, smiling. "Man, that doc's a real trip."

Daisy smiled and shook her head. "Oh, he's harmless. Kind of sweet, actually. I escaped the convoy and passed out, and he found me and carried me here. He saved me."

Jason appreciated her having made it. "It's been really rough," he said, a sentiment Daisy shared. His face must have turned bitter, because she asked him what was wrong. Here was the moment of horrible truth. _Grant's dead, and it's my fault._ For a moment, Jason thought he'd gotten it out. He tried again. "Grant—he, uh…" His voice broke, but it was enough. Daisy's eyes brimmed with tears. "I'm so sorry," Jason choked, struggling not to cry himself. _God, I'm such a wuss. _At the sound of footsteps, he turned away to see the doctor come in. "Are you going to be okay?" he asked Daisy. "I gotta talk to the doc about the others."

Daisy composed herself and nodded. "Yeah, I'm sure," she insisted. As Jason left her bedside, she added, "Jason?" Her eyes were empty but for a glimmer of resolve. "Whoever did this—whoever killed Grant? He deserves to die." The bluntness of her words was a twist in the proverbial knife in his gut.

On the way out, Jason stopped to thank Dr. Earnhardt, who simply and humbly responded, "Think nothing of it." When Jason inquired as to whether the doctor could hide his other friends and sibling here, his reply was less than charitable: "Absolutely not. Vaas' men buy product from me _todo el tiempo_." Jason pointed out that the pirates would never think to look for them in such an obvious spot, and looked to Daisy for help.

Daisy pleaded, "Please, doctor. Let them stay here. They'll die otherwise." Her words got through. Dr. Earnhardt's expression softened and he went to sit by her. "Agnes…" he said in a sad, almost mournful tone, "How can I refuse you?" The doctor stared off into space for several seconds. "Oh," he moaned. "I'm going to need a double dosage to calm my nerves."

_Who's Agnes? _Jason wondered but didn't say as he left. _More importantly__, how do I find Liza, Keith, Riley and Oliver?_

As if someone had heard his thoughts, Jason's phone rang. Dennis was calling.


End file.
